


Zugzwang

by PlaidLove, zeekubeast



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Cuddling, Kissing, M/M, Sharing a Bed, claude: is burned out, lorenz: it's claude loving hours chop chop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 15:10:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21199715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlaidLove/pseuds/PlaidLove, https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeekubeast/pseuds/zeekubeast
Summary: noun: a situation in which the obligation to make a move in one's turn is a serious, often decisive, disadvantage.Lorenz finds Claude trapped on the inner workings of his mind, and decides it is past time that the esteemed Leader of the Leicester Alliance went to bed for the night.





	Zugzwang

Quite irritatingly, Claude had commandeered their old classroom. Lorenz had spent the better part of the dying twilight trying to track him down, only to find him well past the tenth bell surrounded by a makeshift fortress of papers. Claude had pushed together several of their old desks to create a surface large enough to spread out not one, but _three_ very detailed maps of the lands bordering Garreg Mach, the corners weighted down with heavy tomes on strategy flipped open or bookmarked with scouting reports, and on one end even a teapot. Claude stood with one knee braced on the seat of his chair, surveying the painted lands solemnly. More books, more reports, and countless more opened letters were scattered around him, some on the ground, some on chairs. The candles had burned low.

“Here you are,” Lorenz huffed with exasperation. He didn’t get so much as a twitch of acknowledgement from Claude.

Lorenz frowned. He walked up to the desk, stopping barely an arm’s length away from the man. Claude’s face was a grim mask of concentration. His eyes were lightly bloodshot around the white, his brows knitted so tightly together that Lorenz suspected they might get stuck if the wind changed. He peered at the maps. Claude had apparently raided several chess sets for pieces and placed them in clusters at various locations and torn up scraps of parchment for annotation to set beside them. It was completely incomprehensible at a glance.

“A-_hem_,” Lorenz cleared his throat none to quietly. No response. “Claude.”

Claude hadn’t so much as blinked. This was truly ridiculous. Lorenz clapped a hand on his shoulder firmly, “_Claude von Riegan._”

Claude startled, grabbing Lorenz’s wrist violently before his brain caught up with his eyes and the bloom of recognition gave way to exhaustion. Claude pulled away with a breathless laugh. Lorenz arched an eyebrow at him.

“Sheesh, Lorenz! Don’t sneak up on me like that. I nearly thought you were an assassin.” It was a joke, but even Claude’s practiced charm fell flat when he was this tired.

“I did no such thing,” Lorenz tutted. “_You_ were so unresponsive I thought you had been cursed to stone.”

“Hah!” Claude tossed his head and collapsed into the chair he had been half-kneeling on. “As if a stone could be as—” He faltered, floundered for words, and gave up with a sigh. “Sorry, I’m no good for banter tonight. I feel like I’ve been grinding my head against a wall, trying to solve this puzzle.”

“Perhaps a set of fresh eyes would help,” Lorenz offered, stepping back to look at the spread. “Explain it to me.”

“Here,” Claude indicated to a trio of dark wooden pawn pieces lead by beartooth ivory knight. Lorenz wondered if there was significance to the choice in pieces or their materials, but Claude continued on. “Empire forces were spotted in the valley headed northward to Montblanc. They’re an estimated four days off—five if the snows come early.”

“In Nalbina Valley? The Empire is cutting it awfully close to Lord Vossler’s territory to get to there,” Lorenz noted.

Claude nodded. “The main goal is to establish a new supply route into the old Kingdom territory.”

“And by doing so, challenge our status here and in the Alliance.” Lorenz felt his lip curl in contempt for the Empire’s confidence.

Not that it wasn’t warranted on Edelgard’s part, with the Kingdom so thoroughly divided and the fields razed by battle, coupled with their footholds in the Alliance. Lorenz smoothed his face—it was needless to waste his fury on the memory of Empire banners waving in Gloucester land.

Meanwhile, Claude’s fingertips rested on a red painted rook, eyes distant. Lorenz reached for the teapot holding vigil on top of the north-eastern corner of Fodlan to allow Claude to collect his thoughts.

“Margrave Ronsenburg is aware of the party and has patrols out, but refuses to engage. Not with the Alliance’s current neutrality and so much to lose.”

Lorenz nodded thoughtfully in reply, frowning when the handle of the teapot was cool to the touch. Margrave Ronsenburg had only recently become landed gentry in the last two years, due to his efforts at maintaining peace on the border as a knight, and he was unlikely to put that newfound title or his people in jeopardy for an issue that wasn’t immediate. 

“The supply lines mean an increase of Empire troops waltzing by Garreg Mach as well, even if they’re on the wrong side of the mountains. They can—and _will_—interfere with our own lines, and make the local merchants all the more nervous.”

Claude huffed. “Even after Teach put in the effort of clearing the way,” he muttered, bitter.

“It would be beneficial to sabotage the supply chain before it’s established then?” Lorenz eyed the various pawns scattered about Garreg Mach’s ink walls as he searched for a cup.

Another nod from Claude. “It would, but that’s where… and my ego is taking a beating here, I get stuck.”

“How _long_ have you been stuck?!” Lorenz felt the belly of the teapot—it was ice cold to the touch. “And this is still full!”

Silence. Lorenz felt his eyebrows rise with every moment Claude didn’t answer.

“—Regardless,” Claude ended up saying, and Lorenz rolled his eyes. “Yes, my initial thought was to cut off the supply train at the nose and tail. The forces would be trapped in between the mountains and either surrender or show their true colors as a military force.”

“Claude,” Lorenz said, exasperated.

“The supplies they have now are _sorely_ needed here,” Claude continued, bullheaded. “—_And_ I imagine we would bolster our image for any Kingdom rebellions in the area! But…”

Lorenz pinched the bridge of his nose. There would be no distracting him, apparently. “But?”

“Flying the Crest of Flames or not, if we interfere, we invite the Empire’s retaliation for supporting the Kingdom rebels, and a certain new little Alliance lord would get the brunt of it, with us high up in the mountains.” Claude gestured to the collection of brass pieces clustered on top of the monastery. “On top of that, if we go ourselves, we’re risking too much to make the journey through the pass to get to them in time unless we want to gamble all of our flying units on a surprise strike against a convoy that almost definitely has archers.”

“So, what if we get someone closer to deal with the convoy?” Claude asked rhetorically. He stamped the rook against the table, frustrated. “But whether we tell Lord Vossler to throw himself on the Empire’s sword, or tell Margrave Ronsenburg to close the gates of Montblanc on pain of siege, we’re going to show our hand too soon and risk Edelgard coming down on the Alliance like an avalanche.” Claude’s voice was growing gradually louder as he talked through his failed plans.

“But if we _don’t_ make a move,” he said through gritted teeth, “then the Empire has a new supply line running past our front door, perfectly positioned to notice any kind of major troop movement coming to or from Garreg Mach!”

Lorenz abandoned the teapot to stand by Claude’s shoulder, concerned as he watched the man violently scrub a hand through his hair in frustration.

“There has to be a way to do this,” Claude muttered. “A way that doesn’t throw away too many lives on a bad gamble.”

Lorenz placed a hand on his shoulder. “Claude,” he said softly.

“I just... If I can just figure this out—”

It was too much for Lorenz, to see Claude worn out like this. A leader—a _man_—left to stew in his own thoughts and plans for far too long. Lorenz gripped both of Claude’s shoulders to gently but firmly pull him away from the towers of books and reports.

Claude’s eyes left the little armies and platoons with the reluctance of half melted toffee being pulled from a platter: slow and grudgingly before snapping up to meet Lorenz. By the Goddess, he looked tired.

“What—”

Lorenz didn’t give Claude the opportunity for another diversion or to dive back down into another rabbit hole. Instead, he cupped the side of Claude’s face, thumb brushing over Claude’s untrimmed cheek, and tilted his face upwards to kiss him.

It was swift, and more than a little opportunistic. Lorenz lunged like a fencer, his mouth capturing Claude’s in a rush that made their noses bump awkwardly. It was hardly their _finest_ kiss, not that they had many to compare them to. (Most were rushed moments before battle, or in passing in the halls of the monastery, little declarations that bridged the silence of words unsaid between them, fleeting promises that if they had time, if only they had more time...) 

But Lorenz was hardly a quitter, and distinguished himself on turning any rocky start into an effort worth the time. He tilted his head, realigning their faces so that he could suck on Claude’s lower lip, graze it with his teeth before pushing his tongue, gentle and hot into the man’s mouth. Claude’s voice caught in his throat, a noise of surprise, and Lorenz felt fingertips land upon his own wrist—not to push away, not to stop. But to hold on. 

Like a lifeline, Claude clutched Lorenz’s wrist to steady himself as he gave in to the kiss. His lips parted, welcoming the visiting tongue with his own. A wave of eagerness unbecoming of a lord filled Lorenz’s veins and he gripped Claude’s shoulder all the more tightly and threaded his fingers into his ridiculously handsome locks to taste Claude all the better. Lorenz kissed Claude with unfettered passion. Deeper, thoroughly, to outshine all of Claude’s fretting and burdens so that Claude’s attention would be solely on _him_, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, and this moment. 

Lorenz poured every drop of his adoration into the kiss. He kissed Claude until he felt dizzy, until he could hear Claude breathing harshly through his nose, and then kissed him more. He hoped that Claude could feel it, could feel the way that Lorenz felt for him and about him. Lorenz’s hand cradling Claude’s head at the nape of his neck, his other pulling Claude in by the waist so that their chests were flush. He kissed Claude until he couldn’t anymore, and simply panted open-mouthed, their lips only separated by a hair’s breadth.

“Oh,” Claude said—_breathed_—against Lorenz’s mouth and for a second Lorenz wished he _were_ a more uncouth man to shove Claude out of his chair and to have him, with papers flying everywhere, splayed out amongst his work where Lorenz would—

“Is that _really _all you can say, our great leader?” Lorenz withdrew to stand at his full height, every inch the noble (in status _and_ in his manners). “You’re more tired than I thought.”

And for once, Lorenz had the utmost satisfaction of seeing Claude von Riegan—head of the powerful Riegan house, Duke of the Leicester Alliance, the man always armed with a smirk and a plan—_that_ Claude… look utterly and completely blindsided.

The crinkle in his brow that said “I know more than you like” had vanished. There was no smooth charm oozing off of him or smiles that never reached his eyes. No, instead Lorenz was treated to the rare sight of Claude’s hair ruffled by his own touch, of his still parted lips. Just as Lorenz noticed the sheen upon his bottom lip, Claude’s tongue darted out to swipe it away. Surprise etched itself on Claude’s face in the way his eyes batted in confusion at the sudden end to their kiss.

It was _immensely_ gratifying.

“Gobsmacked? Dazzled? Overwhelmed? I’m quite ashamed at not making use of my talents more often if it turns your brain to pudding like so.”

“You’re ruining the effect, Lorenz.”

Claude’s voice was rougher than normal and the sound made Lorenz’s insides leap. But the glimmer of mischief had returned to his eye and his fingers steepled together in a jaunty way that screamed: “let’s pick apart _this_ new little puzzle, shall we?” That wouldn’t do at all. 

“Is burning both ends of the candle any way to lead your compatriots?” Lorenz reprimanded. Or the Alliance, he wanted to add out of habit. Funny how internal house squabbling seemed so small and petty in the past weeks. “Regardless of what you think, it is my duty to ensure that our esteemed leader is at his best for the sake of our allies.”

“Is that a threat?” Claude asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“It’s a promise,” Lorenz declared. “Forgive my abruptness, but the only thing you should be studying tonight is the backs of your eyelids.”

“Hah! ‘Forgive my abruptness,’ he says,” Claude sat forward, fingers laced and peering over them at Lorenz in much the same way he would a moving target. The effect wasn’t quite so ominous with his hair rumpled and cheeks flushed. “Is that what you say to everyone you kiss, like some prince from a fairy tale? Or am I a special case?”

Lorenz ignored the way Claude’s gaze pulled him apart bit by bit to see his soft and squishy _fondness_ for the man. There would be no beating about the bush today, but perhaps…

“I shall divulge my thoughts on the matter to their entirety and utmost completion—” Claude’s eyebrow raised, “—on the condition that you get a full night’s rest.”

“I see,” Claude said diplomatically with that curt nod that drove Lorenz mad with irritation and Claude _knew_ that. “Then I accept.”

That _was _surprising. Lorenz had at least ten perfectly crafted rebuttals to the dismissive tone Claude should—_would_ have given him. 

...But then again, he had just kissed the man instead of their usual foray into the political landscape of Fódlan. And it had felt nice.

He and Claude considered one another for a long minute. 

“Shall I accompany you to your room?”

Claude’s eyebrows went _up_. Lorenz flustered. 

“Better yet, I’ll accompany you to mine!” He continued in a rush, promptly grabbing Claude by the elbow and steering him out of the room. “You look as if you’re about to fall over, and frankly I don’t trust you to manage falling asleep unsupervised.”

“Is that what this is?” Claude asked with laughter in his voice as Lorenz dragged him up the stairs to the dormitory. “And here I thought you were going to be a gentleman and send me off to bed with a kiss goodnight.”

In fact, Lorenz did accompany Claude to his room, but all it took was one look at the whirlwind of books left behind on every horizontal surface above the floor to make Lorenz double down on his sarcastic offer and usher Claude into his own room.

“There is no way you can sleep when your bed is covered in books,” Lorenz chided as he locked the door behind them, leaving the key in the lock.

“You’d be surprised,” Claude replied. He had given up on the pretense of wakefulness and had stripped down to his shirtsleeves in preparation for bed. He sat down on the edge of the bed and watched as Lorenz did the same. 

“I’m certain I would,” Lorenz sniffed. “If there’s one thing I know you enjoy, it’s upending people’s assumptions about you.”

Lorenz felt Claude’s eyes follow him about the room as he dressed for bed and brushed his hair. He couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious being observed, and his fingers fumbled slightly as he braided his hair into the protective plait he wore to sleep. He glanced over his shoulder and caught Claude attempting to hide a yawn behind his wrist. The surge of fondness Lorenz felt washed away every hint of apprehension.

He returned to the bed. Claude looked up and Lorenz bent down to kiss him sweetly on the lips. Claude hummed quietly, his eyelids drooping.

“Come,” Lorenz said softly. “Let us rest now.” 

He motioned for Claude to move so that they could both slip under the covers. Claude obliged, no longer able to stifle his yawning, and Lorenz followed in after, pressing his chest to Claude’s spine and wrapping his arms around him so that Claude’s neck was pillowed on one arm while the other draped over the dip of Claude’s waist.

Claude let out a long, low sigh as he made himself comfortable. A long minute passed, but Lorenz could feel the thrum of Claude’s mind turning over the maps and chess pieces even now. He could feel it in Claude’s shoulders, in the stiffness of his legs. Lorenz kissed the back of his head. A wordless gesture that he hoped would bring comfort.

“I am… surprised,” Claude said after a long pause, the deliberation in choosing his words evident. “That you just invited me in to your room so that you can make sure that I’m _sleeping_.”

Lorenz tutted, but did not interrupt. Instead, he relished the feel of Claude’s chest expanding with the breath he took in, the slow deconstructing of tension in his shoulders.

“Would it be too soon to ask for your thoughts in their ‘_entire and utmost completion’_?” asked Claude, and he eased even more gently against Lorenz. There was still some edge of apprehension in his voice, but the weight of sleep was winning the fight.

The terms had been _after_ a night’s rest, but they both knew there wouldn’t be time for that once the sun rose. With morning, they both would _need_ to be leaders and soldiers again. There might not be enough time for confessions in the daylight. There might not be another night where Lorenz could justify stealing Claude away like this.

“It’s not too soon.” 

Lorenz reached out a hand to find Claude’s and tangled their fingers together. In the darkness, the warm callouses of Claude’s hand were an anchor against the sea of uncertainty.

“The short of it is that…” Lorenz began, and stumbled. “That I care about you. I care _for_ you, Claude.”

“Ahuh?” It’s an encouraging noise. Claude wanted him to continue.

“I don’t doubt that you already knew this, considering our recent… dalliances.” Claude poorly stifled a snort, but Lorenz continued. “Nevertheless, I feel I should say it plainly—especially since you asked it of me. You mean a lot to me, Claude. I wish you every success in life, as both a leader and a friend.”

Claude lay still in front of him. Listening. Lorenz swallowed, his mouth feeling dry all of a sudden.

“A-and… well—What I mean to say is that you, you also—surely?”

“I care for you too, Lorenz,” Claude murmured. His voice was low, barely above a whisper.

“Oh! Ah, of course.” Lorenz squeezed Claude’s hand and tucked his face into the nape of his neck. His face felt hot. But no, this was important; this was something he had to explain as fully as he could. Lorenz cleared his throat. 

“My point being that, the circumstances as they are, aren’t—We have too many responsibilities to act on our mutual feelings.” Lorenz sighed. “We are at war with Adrestia. And you’re a brilliant tactician, Claude. A brilliant leader! It would be— …It would be selfish of me to ask you to divide your attention away from the benefit of the Alliance—from the benefit of all Fodlan!”

“It is against my better judgment for me to pursue more than what we have currently. I know I have a selfish heart, to keep you like this for even a night.” Lorenz pressed an apologetic kiss to Claude’s shoulder. “But I am worried about you… And I hoped to give you whatever comfort I could, while I am still able.” Lorenz drew a shuddering breath. “If my feelings are an imposition, I am sorry. I hope you can forgive me for my indiscretion.”

Claude laughed; a soft, incredulous bark of confusion. Lorenz felt his heart sink in his chest as Claude’s shoulders shook.

“Just when I thought I had you pinned, Lorenz, you go and do this to me!” He chuckled again. “Ahh… I’m sorry, I just—I don’t understand you. I don’t understand how you can call this selfish.”

“Well it is,” Lorenz replied, petulant.

“Don’t pout.” Claude rolled over to face him, shuffling awkwardly on the not-quite big enough bed to tuck his face against Lorenz’s shoulder. “I meant it in a good way,” he murmured. Claude placed a hand over Lorenz’s heart, steady and warm.

“What you call selfish, I call generous beyond belief. I’ve had to struggle my whole life to get people to listen to me, to look past their prejudices and see _me_, and then here you are!” He laughed again, his voice nearly hoarse. “You kiss me so hard that I can’t even begin to worry about the state of the world, tuck me into your own bed and hold me like I’m precious, confess your feelings for me _and then_ apologise for imposing.”

There was an edge to Claude’s voice, a kind of desperation that made Lorenz realise once again that Claude von Riegan was simply a man, not a hero, not a legend. Simply a man who had taken on the cruelty of the world as a boy and decided to change the world for the better out of sheer stubbornness. Lorenz pulled Claude closer to his chest, pushed his fingers into the wavy brown hair and kissed his temple. He stroked Claude’s hair and held him until his breathing eased once more.

Claude let out a long, shaking breath. His forehead dropped to the hollow of Lorenz’s shoulder as he surrendered to the hair petting. Lorenz felt the hand at his back relax and drift down, coming to a rest on his hip. Gradually, by degrees, Claude began to melt into his arms.

“If this is what you’re like when you think you’re being selfish…” Claude’s voice trailed off into a yawn.

“One day, when this war is over, I’ll show you,” Lorenz said firmly. “I’ll show you exactly how selfish my heart is, Claude von Riegan.”

“Is that a promise?” Claude asked in a dreamy voice.

Lorenz cupped his face, drawing Claude up to kiss him full and gentle on the mouth. He withdrew a little so that their foreheads touched and their breath intermingled, thumb brushing along the stubbled curve of his jaw.

“Even worse,” he said severely. “It’s a threat.”

Claude snorted. Lorenz could feel the grin on Claude’s lips in the darkness and smiled himself. The two of them giggled in the dark comfort of their shared bed, like schoolboys without a care in the world beyond their kissing. 

Lorenz peppered kisses over Claude’s brow, telling him to hush so that they could sleep. With a little more cajoling and a fair amount of hair petting, Claude dozed off against Lorenz’s shoulder at last. Lorenz listened for a while to the steady rhythm of his breath until he too fell asleep, filled with love.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Plaid for planting the seed of this fic and letting me run away with it.
> 
> Post Credits:
> 
> Lorenz is rudely awakened at the crack of dawn by Claude kicking off the covers and shouting: "Bandits! Of course!"
> 
> "Is the monastery under attack?" Lorenz asks in alarm, struggling to sit up.
> 
> "What? Oh, no," Claude replies dismissively. "Nothing like that. I meant that what we *need* is bandits to disrupt the convoy!"
> 
> Lorenz makes a face like he's bitten into a lemon and promptly falls back into the pillows, taking Claude with him, deaf to his protests. Strategy can wait until *after* the sun has risen.


End file.
